One day, tired of being picked on by the neighborhood’s bullies, the slender Mr Wu arrived at the building with a muscular specimen of Bull Terrier on a leash. Except, born and raised in a herd of Chihuahuas, Kombat was hiding behind Mr Wu’s weedy legs every time they came across one of the bullies in front of middle school.

1. At 14 she had copied on a notebook a collection of erotic poems, she had left it on her mother’s pillow and tricked her into believing that the author was Mr Nilai, which is why the good accountant had taken alternately pats on the back or had been called lecher without understanding why
2. At 3 she had been reported for stalking by her kindergarten teacher
3. At 9 she had smeared with graffiti all the lampshades in Mrs.Olga’s living room

At the florist that every Thursday used to tell her he was going to play poker – by failing to specify that it was strip poker and with only one playmate – burned the entire wardrobe leaving him in his underwear (the ones he was wearing).
At the pizza chef having a little too much a finger in the pie – especially in the maid’s buttery one – put castor oil in the pizza dough and financiers at the pizzeria.
At the mail clerk discovered while texting to customers under their twenties, secretly downloaded a mobile phone subscription to a chat line based in Kiev, making him spend € 5,000 a month.

Mr Nilai used to love reading, as much as the late Terenzia considered it a trivial and snobbish pastime. That’s why he was surprised when he found, hidden behind the bookcase, a pamphlet of Greek poems with the name of Terentia written inside in beautiful handwriting. The amazement turned to dismay when, under the name of his late wife, he read the dedication signed by Arsenio Agostoni. The love that today tied Mr Nilai and the family Agostoni’s cat, had once connected – equally intense but not so chaste – the petty Terenzia to the incontinent Agostoni.

Once she had discovered her daughter’s plans, widow Cinquini took up with Mr Nilai, so that she could lived among the elderly, but at least reduced to just one and in a private home. Being a good mother, she decided to test the candidate before submitting to her daughter her future husband. Exchanging the attentions of widow Cinquini for interest in him, the unsuspecting accountant had begun to run after her. And the Machiavellian widow, who loved jewelry at least as much as she loved her daughter, had not had the heart to stop him.

What started out of curiosity, in brief, it became a habit and, just as in short, the habit became necessary. That’s how Mr Nilai started tweeting – a verb of which he did not even suspect the existence – residents’ tips and doubts to his neighbor, Mrs. Olga. Time and again during the day. With equal ease, he had taken to update his status on Facebook – a locution of which he was blithely unaware. Left aside, Mrs. Olga’s daughter and Mr Nilai’s son – now a daughter too –, wondered about the reason of the presence – so assiduous as futile – of their parents on the most common socials. Leveraging, in case of need, their unquestionably greater social competence.

At 40 years old, without a home and wore down by continuous illness, widow Cinquini’s daughter found the solution to all his problems: entering hospice. There, she would have been able to share experiences with people of “her age” and quit, finally, to comb through real estate ads to flush out a (clearly) non-existent perfect home.

Eva Nilai, born Ganimede, had inherited two single things from his father: thick mustache and numerous allergies. Being vegan, gluten intolerant, allergic to soy, tomatoes, carrots and sunflower seeds, Eva – once Ganimede –used to get out of the supermarket, after hours of frustrating research, dragging along empty grocery bags.

There was a time, albeit brief, in which Miss Bagotti – more for a question of age than for personal gifts or even less aesthetic – achieved some success with the opposite sex. Mindful of those ancient conquests, and equipped herself with all her less botched photos, Miss Bagotti had launched a blitz at a more than reluctant Mr Nilai. Where it could not the age, perseverance would have won. Except that, where the perseverance could win, myopia played a trick on her. Having found that unexpected photo archive in his pigeon hole Mr Wu, who was not the one to discuss with the fate, rang the doorbell of his parched neighbour. Wearing his loincloth for the special occasions.